


Children

by offensiveagentpie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John finds it endearing as long as nothing gets broken, Sibling bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offensiveagentpie/pseuds/offensiveagentpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is bickering and old insults return.</p><p>Part of the 100 prompts challenge:  28. Children</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children

It had to have been a new record. Mycroft had been at Baker Street for all of two minutes before he had said something to annoy Sherlock to the point of picking up his violin. John had been sitting peacefully at his laptop, drinking a cup of tea. He decided it would just be better to not listen to whatever request Mycroft had come with and would try not to let the soon to be sibling war-of-words distract him from the blog entry he was trying to write.

“I do wish you’d be mature enough to sit and talk to me for a few minutes, Sherlock. Honestly, by now you would think that-“

John looked up from his screen as Sherlock dragged the bow across the strings with a squeal before launching into ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’. It wasn’t often that Sherlock would play a piece that John could easily name and John found himself immediately entranced by how fast the man’s fingers were moving.

The moment was broken, however, as Mycroft let out a groan so loud and out of character that John turned his way. Mycroft sat slumped over his knees; fingers rubbing his temples, jaw tight, and face contorted in misery.

“Oh for pity sake, Sherlock, must you? Of all the songs…”

Sherlock just leered at him, lips curling as he played louder. Mycroft glared back and looked very close to launching himself out of the chair and hitting Sherlock very forcefully over the head with his umbrella.

In the hopes of preventing that outcome (and in the hopes of saving various breakable objects in the flat), John leaned over to Mycroft and asked in a voice loud enough to pierce through Sherlock’s music: “What’s wrong with the song exactly?” He was genuinely curious. Mycroft usually did get annoyed when Sherlock would play instead of listening to him, but this reaction had been rather severe. As far as he could tell, Sherlock was playing it beautifully, as he did with all of his music, really.

Mycroft heaved a put upon sigh. “If you had to hear this infernal music as often as I have, you would wish to never hear it again.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“It was the first song our little prodigy decided to learn. The title involved bees, something that he’s always fancied, and it is a particularly difficult piece to master. So, needless to say, six year old Sherlock decided that he would practice it continuously for days on end and at incredible volume, until he could play it perfectly.”

By the window, Sherlock must have reached a part where he deemed it fit to pause. “I’ll have you know that the only reason ‘incredible volume’ was necessary, was so that I could drown out your dreadful moaning buffalo in the next room.”

Mycroft sat up straight once again. “I’ll have you know that even a ‘moaning buffalo’”, he sneered at the words, clearly an old and much hated taunt, “is preferable to a screeching cat!”

“You’re only saying that because Mummy much preferred the violin!”

“How dare you! You know quite well that she’s always preferred Bach’s pieces for cello over anything that you could saw off on that blasted-“

“You should have stuck with French Horn, seeing as how you are brimming with hot air!”

Mycroft stood up from the chair, umbrella brandished before him like a sword, Sherlock advancing at him from across the room, violin bow poised in the same position.

“Children!” John managed to shout out before collapsing in a fit of giggles. Both brothers turned to look at him, Sherlock’s face pinched in annoyance and Mycroft with red rising in his cheeks. “Honestly,” John rested his forehead on his hand, still shaking with quiet laughter. “You two sound like Harry and I did when we were five! And to think you’re both geniuses. Just sit down and discuss whatever it is you need to talk about. No ‘fencing’,” he motioned to their hands, “in the flat either, if you please.”

They both looked slightly chastised, lowering their respective ‘weapons’ and looking off in different directions as John turned back to his computer, still letting out the occasional chuckle. Typing away, he didn’t fail to miss the whispered:

“Twat.”

“Wanker.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a head canon that Mycroft plays the cello. No one can convince me otherwise.


End file.
